Pain
by Tmae3114
Summary: "Life works in weird ways, his worst enemy and tormentor had become his best friend and confidant. Maybe he could save his time after all." Because I had to write it. Spoilers for 2X10 'Before the Dawn! ONE-SHOT


**Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice, if I did then the show wouldn't be nearly as good. I'm quite scatterbrained after all, the episodes would never be finished.**

* * *

He was locked in a containment pod, away from the team, the people he was trying to save. He'd been caught when Mount Justice was blown up, a prisoner for the Light's partner.  
He knew who the partner was. Course, nobody here knew that and he couldn't tell them; it was a spoiler, he wasn't allowed to share spoilers (they'd been clear about that). And he'd made them think he was a hyperactive tourist from a utopian future. They thought they were all still alive. It was almost laughable, the image he'd so carefully crafted; so much like a child on too much sugar.

He'd never tasted sugar before he came here.

Course, they didn't know that either.

None of them knew the _real_ him, who Bart Allen was under the happy, curious and annoying child – yes, his image was annoying, he knew that, it was _meant_ to be that way. (_Who would they like more?_ He mused _The Mask or the reality?)_ They all thought Bart Allen was the tourist from the future; that someone from his time would be along to pick him up eventually.  
That was almost laughable too. Somebody to pick him up? Nobody would care enough to try and follow him, people had long since forgotten teamwork. Not since the takeover.

No, they didn't know him. He wasn't the image so carefully crafted so that all suspicion was deflected. He wasn't a nice person underneath it, he was too hardened. Growing up as a slave does that to people, when there's no hope of help, not even the tiniest smidge, you grow up quickly. That's what he had done. It was why he wasn't the tourist (_he was a _refugee;_ on the run from his own time, nothing left for him there anyways, never had been anything to leave behind, he'd known that from an early age_). It was why Bart Allen wasn't the excited, curious, happy-go-lucky child (the Mask) he was the hardened, cold person lying his way through the past (tricking his own family, he'd have given anything to know them properly and now he had the chance. _Wasted_, but not really. He should feel guilty...why wasn't he guilty?). All so that he could stop his own timeframe from ever occurring.(That was a good thing wasn't it? Heroes always do the right thing. Who had said that? Was he really a hero? This was the right thing wasn't it?)  
The Reach had done that to him with the incessant driving since he was old enough to walk and carry something at the same time. That's how it was for all the children.

He'd worn an inhibitor collar all the time. His powers were still new to him, but he didn't show that. The Mask could control them. If he accidently ran into a wall, he was just being Bart and being unobservant, he hadn't lost control. Why would someone who'd had these powers since birth and used them constantly loose control?  
They were being taken to the Reach now, they'd study the metagene. Aqualad had taken Blue Beetle too. The scarab would be put on mode, and everyone was doomed. He'd failed. Unless they were rescued first, he'd failed. He closed his eyes in the pod, wishing for sleep to come. He'd need all the rest he could get before the experiments started.

* * *

_He was exhausted. Every muscle in his body was screaming in agony, his brain protested, screaming that he need sleep, needed _rest_, his stomach was rumbling and growling and yelling for food that would come in the most meagre portions, enough to tide them over and not starve to death, but not enough to keep them fully healthy. They were needed alive, not healthy. The burden in his arms was too heavy for him and he stumbled, dropping it and falling to his knees._

_Five seconds of blissful rest passed before a blue beam smashed into the dirt in front of him, knocking dust into the air and into his face. He coughed roughly and blinked rapidly to clear it from his eyes. Said body parts dragged themselves upwards to stare at the grey-and-blue feet in front of him. Slowly they travelled to the legs, the torso and finally the face; the vile, twisted, _sneering_ face. _

_His enemy was enjoying this. He liked it when they were too weak to continue, it gave him a chance to show off his power, to make them all feel helpless – well, more helpless than they already were._

"_On your feet!" his tormentor barked, the weapon now put away. He didn't need it, he was bigger than the child, his hands alone could damage him as much as the weapon could, and he'd be able to prolong it. The child tried to stand, but his legs gave out and he fell again._

"I said, _on your feet!" he barked again. The child was trembling, both from exertion and terror._

_A strong hand gripped his shoulder – not strong, firm like his father's had once been, nor strong, gentle like his mother's, this was strong, _painful. _The grip was vice like, or he assumed it was. He'd never seen or felt a vice, he'd heard about them though, and they seemed strong._

_He was yanked upwards, his feet dangling above the ground as he was pulled to eye level._

"_Get on your feet, and _stay there_, or I will use this," the daunting figure hissed, holding the controller where the boy could see it._

_Inhibitor collar controller. _

_He'd felt the sting of the electricity before, it was painful, he didn't want to feel it again, but he knew that he would._

_He nodded, throat clamping shut and tears stinging his eyes. He blinked them back rapidly when he was dropped. _Be strong_ he told himself_ be strong and don't satisfy them.

_He picked up his burden again and continued on. He and the tormentor both knew that eventually, it would happen again. In a few minutes, or a few hours, it would be too much._

The tormentor would pay _he promised himself_ when we're strong enough, he will pay.

_Eleven year old Bart Allen glanced at the Blue Beetle before trudging onwards once more, as he had done for as long as he could remember._

* * *

"Impulse, that's so crash! Catchy, dramatic, one word. Like Nightwing, and Robin, and Beast Boy! Except, that's two words. Blue Beetle is two words. Hey is he here too? Never mind, _Impulse_ can find that out for himself!"

That was what he had said when he arrived. He hadn't wanted to know if Blue Beetle was there, not really, but that was how The Mask had to act. If Blue Beetle had been there, he didn't know how he would have reacted. Screamed and attacked him probably, lost all grip on the Mask, been the real him. Try to make the tormentor feel all the pain he had.

* * *

_Running, that's all he was doing, running. He had to run, to get away from them. He pulled again at the inhibitor collar, if he could just get it off he would be fast enough! He could make it to the remains of the United Kingdom, or somewhere in Europe. Find one of the resistances, or be a scavenger. He'd get away before he could be caught if he could get this collar off._

_A whirring noise grabbed the thirteen year old runaway's attention. He stumbled and tripped over a rock, skidded a couple of meters before coming to a stop. Blood oozed from the cuts and scrapes all over his body, bruises coated him like armour; but that armour wouldn't protect him._

_The Blue Beetle landed by the runaway, firm grip closing around his arm and yanking him into the air. Through the panic, the child could still think slightly. The Beetle always seemed to target him specifically, every fault, every mistake, the Beetle always knew and would be there. Why was he always targeted? He didn't know._

"_A runaway, hmm?" the tormentor's voice broke through his thoughts._

"_Well, runaways have to be punished you know,"_

_The grip around his arm disappeared, but the mark would be there, another bruise on his skin, another link to add to his chainmail._

_The controller was held up, the button pressed and volts charged. He jerked violently, screaming an inhuman sound as they charged relentlessly through his body. _

_They stopped, and he gasped for breath, which was quickly cut off but a hand closing tightly around his throat. Not too tightly, but still tightly enough. He was once again lifted eye level to Blue Beetle._

"_Learned your little lesson yet? You are not to attempt to runaway again, there is nothing out there for you. This world belongs to the Reach, and as such so do you. No matter where you go, you will be found, and you will be punished," the voice said, and then he was dropped. Hands closed around both his wrists and he was flung over the tormentors shoulder like a sack of potatoes (potatoes were food right?)_

* * *

Regardless, he had tried again, and he'd gotten away. He'd found Nathaniel, in a section of the wreckage of Mount Justice that hadn't been touched. There was a time machine being built. He offered to help.

_No matter where I go, huh? Try to follow me now_ he remembered thinking as the machine was finished.

Nathaniel helped him, they had food and he learned about the past; everyday he trained for his mission.

It was the lessons involving the Blue Beetle that shocked him the most. His tormentor, the one being on the planet he wanted gone more than any other, had once been human. Had been a _child like him_. Had been a _hero_.

He asked why, if Blue Beetle was a good guy, would he turn on his own people? Cause all this destruction, and pain, and suffering?

It was the scarab, Nathaniel explained. It was of the Reach, but the boy inside of Blue Beetle hadn't known. When the Reach fixed it, got it on mode, the consciousness of the boy had been destroyed.

Or so everyone thought.

But that piece of information cleared something for Bart. Once, when he was much younger, he remembered the pain being less, and then over the years it increased. It wasn't an illusion, it _had_ been getting worse. Somehow the boy's consciousness, or part of it, had survived, and had somehow been holding the Beetle back.  
He was weakening, whoever the boy was.  
Nathaniel told him a name, Jaime Reyes.

Somehow, Bart didn't want Blue Beetle utterly obliterated anymore. His worst enemy was now a victim. He wanted the Blue Beetle that he knew gone, but he wanted to save him, to help the boy tapped inside the monster.

Sometimes it was just hard to remember that the boy was there.

* * *

"_Kid we have to finish soon, The Reach are on their way!" Nathaniel exclaimed, rushing into their base. Bart was on his feet in seconds, a blue as he went around the base grabbing parts to finish the machine._

* * *

It was done the next day, the two said their goodbyes and then Bart had gone to the past; as the Mask of course. When Bart met Jaime, he was trying to see the boy who was the victim, not the tormentor, but as time went by the Mask genuinely got to know the boy behind the beetle and actually befriended him.

It had already been personal, now it was just more so.

Oh, look, rescue party. Thanks M'gann, anyways, gotta go save humanity, bye!

He knew he was going so fast that he probably wouldn't be seen, and he was risking recapture, the team would be worried, but Blue Beetle was more important. The fate of humanity rested on Bart's shoulders and in the fate of Jaime Reyes.

Bart got him out, the scarab wasn't yet on mode.

He remembered a few nights before, he had suggested a sleepover. He just showed up at Jaime's house with a sleeping bag and pyjamas. He hadn't really argued, so they talked for a while before going to sleep. Jaime had asked about the long sleeves, he always wore long sleeves. And he changed at super speed, he was asked about that too. The truth was the same for both, to hide the scars, most of which Jaime himself – well, the on mode scarab really – had inflicted in the future. The lie that the Mask told him was that he like long sleeves and the super speed was a habit.

He hadn't been able to use it long enough to make it a habit. Jaime didn't know that.

He'd had a nightmare than night, Jaime had woken him. Shaking his arm. Bart had freaked, the grip feeling too similar to the oppressive one forty years in the future. When he calmed down, he apologised but Jaime was understanding. Nightmares are scary, he had said, I can't blame you for freaking out after one.

Bart didn't bother to correct him.

As he helped the weakened boy, Bart made a decision. Jaime deserved to know, he had been a good friend to the Mask, so he deserved to get to know Bart.

At least one person would know the truth, and that person was Jaime Reyes, Blue Beetle number two. Bart couldn't keep the venom out of his voice as he explained though, there was too much personal pain behind his words, too many years of torture. Even when Jaime tried to deny it, the venom was there as he corrected him.

Things work in weird ways, the plan for our life is unusual, Bart decided as they ran down the hallway of the Reach ship. His worst enemy, his tormentor, had become his best friend, his confidant.

Yet, he couldn't be happier with how things were turning out.

Maybe he could save his future after all.

* * *

**So, that idea's now out of my head. Now I can focus on stuff again! Yay!**

**I didn't even realise that there was another hiatus as I don't live in America. Where I live season two isn't even out yet, so I have to find all the episodes online. Yay for iTunes releasing 'Before the Dawn'!  
Did anyone else have an 'Ah I don't know what I'm feeling!' moment when they saw the scene about the future? And I didn't imagine the venom in Bart's voice when he was explaining did I?**

**If you pause on the scene where Bart falls over, he is actually wearing an inhibitor collar of some kind. Therefore, Bart's powers aren't fully trained because they have clearly been restrained for some large portion of his life.**

**Tell me what you think? Please? I didn't completley ruin this idea did I?**


End file.
